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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

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be as you’ve always been

Alternate Title: everyone’s nb bitch, let’s get you some gender affirming underwear

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This is based on a request by the lovely @minky-for-short and some truly beautiful art of Caduceus which you can see and bask in here. Huge thanks to @tendermosses for letting me base a ficlet on their work and for always doing such amazing art for fjord and caduceus!

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Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3 or reblogging to let me know what you think!

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Caduceus had known, since moving out of the grove and into the city, that his life went at a very different pace to most people’s. He didn’t know if it was because he was a firbolg, because he talked more to trees with lifespans of centuries than to people or because of brain chemistry reasons. But why's had never particularly concerned Caduceus, he tried to take people as they were, as long as they did the same for him.

And these people made decisions almost without thinking, they moved from one task to the next without pause, one word could send them careening onto a completely new train of thought while Caduceus was stuck on one three stations back.

And some did it so quickly, so without any kind of traceable logic, that all Caduceus could do was cling on as tight as he could and follow along in complete ignorance to see where he ended up.

But then he spoke to some of his friends and realised, to his mild relief, that no. That was just what Mollymauk and Jester were like.

He also realised that sometimes it led to very good things.

Molly and Jester were two of his closest friends and two of his most regular customers, given that the theatre where Mollymauk worked was just down the block and that Jester had an addiction to sweet things. They were usually there, talking together or with their partners, and Caduceus had grown to love the sound of their voices mixing pleasantly with the noise of the cafe.

That evening, a half hour shy of closing, they had both been sitting on the tall chairs against the counter, Jester’s short legs swinging happily halfway up, Molly’s lanky ones folded underneath him but they would have touched the floor if he’d let them. The discussion had turned to sewing, how best to work with the sequined and beaded fabric Molly needed to wrestle for the theatre’s next show without breaking his sewing machine.

Caduceus had been scoring tomorrow’s loaves with the elaborate leaf and vine patterns he liked to do, bringing his work out onto the counter because there were no other customers in and so he could listen to his friend’s chatter. Jester had been recounting a memorable night with some sequinned lingerie she’d bought the other week, how so many had come loose and turned up in places they weren’t meant to be that she’d had to buy new sheets, Molly cackling and snorting at all the appropriate places. Or, rather, inappropriate places.

Caduceus had murmured, not particularly minding whether they heard him or not, that lingerie mystified him a little but he’d always wanted to give it a try.

The immediate silence told him his friends had definitely heard. And the look they gave each other, barely concealed glee and eagerness, told him they intended to do something about it.

Which brought Cad to where he was now, legs folded almost up to his chest, in the cramped passenger seat of Mollymauk’s car. Caduceus didn’t know a lot about cars but it didn’t take much to see that Molly’s had gone beyond being on its last legs and was now running on pure willpower and prayers to the Moonweaver. It felt like the bass of the music pouring out of the speakers was going to be enough to shake it apart and Jester piped up from the back seat that the door handle had come off.

“There’s duct tape under the seat, babe,” Molly called back, unconcerned, learning forward to turn down the volume when he saw how Cad was wincing but being too awkward to say anything.

“You really don’t need to do this,” Cad insisted gently, “You’ve both been working all day, it’s getting late...”

“So have you,” Jester pointed out, voice a little indistinct through the strip of tape she was holding in her teeth, “And we don’t mind, it’ll be fun! We can help you pick out something nice! Anyhow, Beau and Yasha are at the gym until eight, Fjord too.”

“And Caleb has the kids,” Molly hummed, spinning the wheel lazily, far further than he should really have to just to take an easy corner, “This is a bonding exercise, Deucey. You need back up on something like this. You need your GNC club.”

“GNC?” Caduceus tilted his head.

“Gender non conforming,” Molly supplied, “You know, people who get it. Gender’s dead but friendship is not.”

“Your NB buddies!” Jester grinned, her head pushing in between the two of them, duct tape stuck to her horns, catching her homemade earrings with the plastic gummy bears, “Wait...your NBuddies!”

Caduceus considered that, his ears flapping a little as he took the tape off for Jester. He liked the idea of being part of a club. Even more, he liked the idea of being understood. He’d been worried about that when he’d first moved, breaking away from the grove where things were fluid and constantly changing as nature itself and entering a place where there might be rules and expectations in place that made sense to everyone but him. Where he would have to explain himself and define himself with terms that weren’t his own.

But here he was, feeling safe in a very unsafe vehicle, with friends to gladly cheer him on as he threw open the windows of the self he’d made a home in and tried new things.

Caduceus folded the piece of tape over and over in his long fingers and smiled.

“So what is it that mystifies you, exactly?” Mollymauk twitched some scandalous lace as they moved deeper into the boutique. Apparently this is where he and Jester had been coming for ages, enough that the drow behind the counter had known their names and greeted them with high fives.

“I guess...the concept?” Caduceus held his tail so it wouldn’t knock anything over, some of the displays were elaborate and delicate looking and full of things that would probably vibrate loudly if they hit the floor and that would be embarrassing, “I thought the idea of sex was to wear nothing rather than something. Where in the whole...process does this stuff come in?”

Molly nodded, managing to listen intently while dragging Jester by the tail so she wouldn’t dive headfirst into the costumes part of the shop, “Anywhere really. They make stuff you can still fuck in, if efficiency is what you’re worried about. But I think the function of this kind of outfit is to make you feel pretty, y’know? Get you in the right headspace, get you feeling yourself, yeah? It doesn’t always need to be about sex.”

“Sometimes I just wear pretty lingerie under my clothes cos it puts me in a good mood!” Jester bounced on the balls of her feet, ducking behind racks to sneak sips of the milkshake she’d smuggled past the cashier, “Helps me feel more like me.”

“Oh,” Cad said softly, tilting his head to consider the silk and satin and lace around them in a different way, “That sounds nice, actually.”

“Which is why it’s important to choose things you really like,” Molly nodded encouragingly, taking a sip of Jester’s shake and dodging the punch she aimed at his shoulder, “It’s a treat for yourself, this kind of stuff. And, when it inevitably shortens Fjord’s shorts by a good few inches because you’re going to look utterly stunning, that’s a bonus.”

Caduceus turned pink under his fur, a smile playing on his lips, “You think he’d like me wearing this kind of thing?”

“If you love yourself in it, Caddy, he will,” Jester beamed confidently.

“So...what’s catching your eye?” Molly prompted, seeing the excitement in his bright purple eyes, “They’ve got a good size range here, gaps for tails. Anything you like, they’ll have it to fit you.”

Caduceus looked around, ears lifting and whiskers twitching with interest. Anything he liked. No need to wonder if they would have things made to fit his tall, awkward body, no need to feel the pinching anxiety he’d grown too familiar with in clothing shops. A place where he could fit. And the only purpose was to make him feel beautiful.

“I like...green. And I like flowers.”

Molly and Jester shared that look again, the look of remembering when they’d had that moment of realisation too, when they’d discovered the world had space for them as they were. A look of delight at seeing it happen for their friend too and knowing they’d had a hand in it.

“Let’s get to work then,” Molly grinned.

Caduceus still had a little more time before Fjord came back from the gym. They’d checked and double checked the sizes on everything but Mollymauk still advised trying them on to make sure he was happy with them. And honestly, Cad’s excitement meant he didn’t want to wait.

So he stood in front of the full length mirror, after clearing away the clothes that were draped over it, with his hair gathered up in a thick bun at the nape of his neck, wearing little beyond the dull gold light of the sunset coming in through the windows. He’d bought three sets at the store and a few bits of jewellery to go through his piercings, actually a rather modest haul compared to what Molly and Jester bought for themselves but he was just starting out, after all.

There was one in green silk with garters and lace panels. There was a bodysuit made of mostly straps in a mossy blue colour that reminded him of water and looked pretty against his fur. But he quickly decided his favourite. The main material was sheer, meant to look like it wasn’t there at all, so the effect was that he’d laid a number of beautiful, intricately embroidered flowers across his body, teasingly concealing the barest amount.

That one he couldn’t quite bear to take off, even after he saw it fit him perfectly. Caduceus kept turning this way and that, grinning widely, seeing how it looked from different angles, touching the fabric, feeling how the stitches rose and fell under his fingertips. He looked like a dryad, wearing only sunlight and flowers, glowing from the inside out with an ethereal, untouchable kind of beauty.

And he liked it. He liked it a lot.

Caduceus had always felt mostly at home with how he expressed himself. He’d had eighty years to decide who he was and to know it was okay, that the Wildmother would always accept him and some individuals would not and that was outside of his control. Dysphoria was a word he’d learned the meaning of only after he’d moved to the city.

But this was the first time he’d been able to understand why Fjord looked at him the way he did, why he wanted him. Those dark nights when he’d lain awake with his head on his boyfriend’s chest and listened to the heart that was promised to him and wondered why, of all the people in the world, Fjord’s body stirred for him, those nights felt far away right now. Because he could see it for himself now. There was a connection in his mind, clear as day, that had been dark before.

He was beautiful. He was desirable. And this was good to know.

Caduceus mustn’t have heard the front door open, more in his head and in the mirror than in their bedroom. He mustn’t have heard Fjord throwing his bag down in the hall, his heavy footfalls across the old, creaking wood.

All Cad heard was the bedroom door starting to swing and his boyfriend’s call of, “I’m home, love, just going to showe-oh.”

Cad turned quickly, the magic broken, suddenly only able to think about the fact that he was wearing ridiculous lingerie with absolutely no warning, no rose petals or candles or glasses of champagne to try and pretend this was a deliberate surprise, “Fjord! Sorry, I...I was just…”

He faltered for words but couldn’t find any. Though it seemed Fjord was having the same difficulty. He was in his gym clothes, shirt still sticking to his chest and hair pushed back from his damp forehead with a simple band. And his jaw was on the floor. And his eyes...

“Um...Molly and Jester took me shopping today?” Cad explained, feeling heat rise to the surface of his skin for a different reason, “I thought I’d try something new.”

Fjord swallowed hard, his eyes wide and darting, unable to decide which part of Caduceus they wanted to stare at most, “Yeah? You...you look...I mean, god, Cad…”

Cad’s smile was back, flickering into life, “I look pretty, don’t I?”

Fjord gave a soft laugh, his eyes practically flooding over, “Pretty? Cad, there aren’t even words, love.”

Caduceus’ ears flapped and his tail curled in the air. He liked that. He liked the idea of things that could be said without words.

“Can I?” Fjord stepped forward, muscles coiled and ready, body telegraphing his need as clearly as a hunting animal.

“Oh please,” Cad breathed, “Fjord, please.”

It was well and truly night by the time they were done and Caduceus was pleased to learn he could feel just as beautiful once the lingerie had been eagerly pulled away. It was like a light had been switched on somewhere inside him and on it would stay.

He slept contentedly, easily, head resting on Fjord’s chest. His braid was undone, hair settling over his shoulders in waves made wild by his boyfriend’s fingers passing through it again and again. His lips were swollen pleasantly and flushed, his body would be full of well earned aches in the morning.

He was the most beautiful thing Fjord had ever seen.

He was ready for sleep himself, more than ready, but before he settled down to let himself drift away in his boyfriend’s arms, the only way he could ever really sleep completely peacefully, he had something to do. He pulled his phone out, fortunately within reach because his shorts had ended up hanging off the bedside lamp. Just a quick text, sent to two of his friends- Little Blue and Peacock according to his contact list.

thank you. seriously guys THANK. YOU.

And if Molly and Jester hadn’t been busy with their own partners, their own purchases, their own bliss, they would have seen it and grinned that grin again.

But there would be time in the morning.

#fjorclay #caduceus clay #fjord #critical role #everyone is trans #everyone is gay #modern au #fluff #smut #please let me know what you think!#teahaw

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ryanrambling · 7 years

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So I figured I’d try my hand at a FNAF short-story.

I love writing - hell I wrote what could be considered a lengthy book (I never tried to publish it, though). So this seemed like a fun idea! Check it out below the break.

Part 1: Faces Old and New

“So do you ever think you’ll use the puppet in an attraction?” The question had been on his mind ever since James had seen the locked box, tucked away in the boss’s office. Seated on one of the party tables in the main hall, the young man looked from the stage – upon which the two familiar figures stood silently, ever watchful of their familiar domain – to his boss.

The other man, whom was about twenty years his senior, seemed distant until James’ question registered in his head. “Mr. Afton?” James inquires, and receives a sudden shake of the head from the man. Afton runs a hand through his parted brown hair before looking down at his chubby digits and fiddling with his ring.

“Well,” he begins, looking over at his employee, “It is not so simple.” James blinks, but remains silent, quietly encouraging the senior fellow to elaborate. “Think about it James – we got the puppet from the old owners. It would be a slew of paperwork to get the license to actually use it. Not to mention we would have to build an attraction for it, and that is not exactly cheap.” Afton sighs once, “The kids always liked the puppet – why is beyond me, it always seems to be… thinking, if you ask me – so I am sure it would bring in business. Nevertheless, the practicalities must be consider”

James nods as the man speaks, “Well, I suppose we got Bonnie and Freddy, eh?” He gestures to the stage, upon which an eight foot golden animatronic bear stands vigil, his lifeless blue eyes staring blankly forward with microphone in hand. Next to Freddy stands a dual-toned rabbit of similar height and likeness to Freddy. The animatronic holds a banjo and looks ready to strum, but it’s all an illusion – the illusion of life. Named Bonnie, the rabbit has golden fur akin to Freddy’s, but with accents of olive. “And of course Henry to keep them up and running.”

At that, Afton scoffs. “I, too, can facilitate repairs for our animatronics. As co-owner I would expect nothing less of myself,” he seems mildly offended at James’ insinuation that he could not tend to the animatronics, but seems to let it go. Looking down at his wrist, the owner frowns, “Where the bloody hell is the night watchman? Teenagers are liable to sneak in again and do… things in our lovely facility if she does not tend to her shift.”

James looks down at his own Casio digital watch. The scratched display reads “11:42 pm.” At this, he lets out a chuckle, “Well Mr. Afton, her shift doesn’t start for another 12 minutes. Can we really be so mad at her for that?” Feeling a cramp in his leg from sitting on the edge of the short table, the employee hops to his feet and stretches his pained limbs.

“Being early to one’s shift is an admirable quality, Mr. Schmidt,” Afton reminds James with special formality and an emphasis on his surname. “You have always been most admirable in that area,” the owner slowly paces between the tables, readjusting napkins and party hats as he speaks. James watches the man with mild amusement. His large build seems entirely inappropriate for such fine work, but his steady hands and calm gaze show only the calmest countenance working.

However, he inadvertently twitches as the clamor of an opening metal door sounds from behind them. James turns sharply and finds a disheveled co-worker huffing in the precipice of the diner. “Mr. Afton!” She calls out breathlessly, “I’m so sorry! I got here as soon as I could. Henry asked me to help out the pizzeria set up their cameras and the breaker blew and so we had to go reset the surge protectors and then customers came in and –“ she’s cut off by the man in question.

“Lauren, please, calm down. It is quite alright. It is only,” he glances down at his watch, “11:55 pm. You are still on time for your shift.” He moves toward the auburn-haired woman who shirks off her puffy, metallic-looking jacket and tosses it on the reception podium nearby. “While you’re watching the place, please check on the pipes in the kitchen,” Afton gestures to the darkened kitchen, the only part of it visible being the break in the wall for passing food – primarily pizza – through. “Henry informed me that there’s a dripping sound coming from the kitchen and I would not want to waste money on water.”

Looking to James, Mr. Afton nods once. “Come, James. Let us depart and leave Lauren to her job.” With that, the man moves toward the kitchen, but takes a right turn toward the ‘Employees Only’ entry adjacent to the stage and disappears behind the swinging door, likely to return with his jacket.

James looks to Lauren. Though a few years his senior, he’s always enjoyed her candour. “Never calm, huh?” He grins at her, “Your daughter Jessica must be all sorts of thrilled her mommy’s spending her night in another town, and in a place she loves so much!” He snickers, as this was a long-standing joke between them.

“Very funny mister college student. You’re the one who drives two hours to go to some fancy school for an a degree in English!” She moves around the podium and procures a large flashlight – a gift from Inspector Clay in their nearby hometown to ‘keep the peace,’ as he put it – and gives it a twirl. “I oughtta give you a clobberin’ with this thing for your lip. Now go on, get before I change my mind!” They share a laugh at her empty threat as James acquires his coat from the table upon which he had sat.

Mr. Afton returns to the main room of the diner, keys jingling in his hand, and exits the store. He holds the door open and looks to James expectantly. “Well, goodnight Lauren. Don’t let any teens have sex on Freddy and Bonnie’s stage! I think they wouldn’t appreciate that much,” Afton frowns at the lewd insinuation, but Lauren can only laugh at James’ off-colour joke.

The young man exits the diner and finds the bracing air of winter close in all around. His breath comes out in a small grey cloud before dissipating into the air. “Remember Lauren, do not let anyone in! Last time someone wanted to ‘just use the phone’ they dialed long distance for five minutes,” Afton reminds his employee before, for lack of a better word, locking her in with a turn of a large key. Overhead, the neon sign displaying Freddy and Bonnie with the words “FredBear’s Family Diner” humming noisily below flickers with the slamming of the door. “Bloody sign,” Afton mumbles to himself. “James, drive around to the back and make sure the breaker box is locked up? I do not want hooligans playing with it while Lauren is inside alone.”

“Sure, Mr. Afton. See you tomorrow.” The owner offers a nod and moves to his own vehicle parked a distance away. For his part, James moves down the building toward his own car – a 1976 Toyota Corolla in the most putrid of lime greens. It was a gift from his father, so James cannot truly hate it, but its lack of style leaves something to be desired.

With a turn of the key, the driver door unlocks and James steps in, ignoring the creak of the dented olive green door as he closes it. The engine starts after a moment of resistance and James moves the car parallel of the diner and follows its edge to. Glancing inside the windows on the side of the building he notes the ever-shuttered blinds of Henry’s office. “Such an odd dude,” he comments to himself. To most, James has discovered, Henry comes off as an affable, but eccentric fellow without many conventional mannerisms most people would find normal. “Cute kids, though… What’s her name? Cheryl?” He shrugs to himself as he spares a glance into the next officer – William Afton’s.

The blinds are, unsurprisingly, left open. But James’ hands instinctively clench on the wheel and his foot pushes down on the brake. “What the fuck…” He murmurs. For just a moment the young man sees… something in the window. A flash of light? Eyes? He can’t say. But something about it seems decidedly off.

Yet it is gone as quickly as it appears. The apparition, if it could be called that, seemed off. Looking left to see if he could find the source of the spot light, he finds the laundromat darkened. “Maybe it was Lauren’s flashlight inside…” His reasoning seems solid, yet something about this highly logical explanation feels hollow, like it was a copout.

James makes quick note of the breaker box on the back corner of the building and sighs in relief. It doesn’t seem to be open, so he won’t have to go out and investigate. “Good,” he declares, relieved.

Turning his car around in the narrow space between the two buildings proves to be a challenge, but James is undeterred in his quest to leave the diner. After a minute of backing up, turning, pulling forward, turning some more, and repeating such ad nauseam, he finds himself facing the road once more.

The night is well in gear – now just past midnight, he looks back at FredBear’s Family Diner and feels a shudder run up his spine. “What… was that?” He knows it was likely just a trick of the light – a flashlight shining through the office door’s window, a reflection on his passenger-side window from another building, anything really.

For a moment James stares out into the street at the darkened buildings across from the diner. In the distance he can see cars driving up and down the nearby avenue, but for now all he can think of is that strange white flash in Afton’s window, and how he could have sworn he saw eyes.

#FNAF #five nights at freddy's #William Afton #Afton #Purple Guy #Freddy #Freddy Fazbear #Springtrap #Spring Trap #Golden Bonnie #short story #writing

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